


There Ain't No Cure

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 11





	There Ain't No Cure

Walking into the loft and finding Blair standing naked on the balcony is unexpected.

Not unwelcome, but definitely unexpected.

A pile of discarded clothes…a very small pile - raggedy jean shorts puddled where Blair stepped out of them, and an inside-out faded tie dyed tee shirt crumpled alongside …sit on the floor a scant two feet inside the door.

Jim imagines Blair’s nimble fingers hastily popping the buttoned fly open and then letting the shorts drop as he pulls the tee shirt off over his head in an ungainly struggle against jersey stuck to clammy skin and mounds of tightly corkscrewed curls.

No sign of boxers makes Jim smile and he shakes his head.

Blair’s body looks relaxed, his arms noodle-limp at his sides, and it’s hard to tell if he knows Jim’s home. He’s bathed in the late afternoon sun’s glow, and Jim’s eyes light on his ass. He’s transfixed momentarily by the honey-glossed skin shimmering with tiny beads of perspiration pooling in the small of his back just above his buttocks.

Jim drops his keys in the basket by the door, and then picks up the discarded clothes. He flings them down the hall toward the bathroom, listening to the swish and clickety-click the fabric and buttons make against the wood floor. As he walks across the loft, he plucks the fabric of his tee shirt from his chest in a rapid motion, fanning himself.

It’s midsummer, the air is torrid, the loft blisteringly hot and stuffy.

Looking out through the balcony doors, Jim narrows his eyes and scans the immediate surroundings, making sure there are no nosy neighborhood gawkers, but his gaze returns quickly to Blair.

His head is shaking again; he’s still plucking and fanning, and his smile returns. He decides Blair’s brain has melted to jellied goo inside his noggin.

He steps out onto the balcony behind Blair and slips his arms around Blair’s waist, criss-crossing them in a loose bear hug. He kisses Blair high on the cheek, just below the corner of his left eye, avoiding scratchy late-day stubble, before resting his chin on Blair’s shoulder.

Blair sighs languorously, not startled by Jim’s presence.

“What’s with the indecent exposure, hmmm Chief?”

Blair throws his arms skyward and tilts his head back against Jim’s neck. His hair is warm, infused with moisture, and clings to Jim like seaweed until he shakes his head gently.

“The sun gods are smiling on me today.”

Blair smells deliciously good, sun-warmed, and Jim breathes in a deep lungful of him, closing his eyes briefly to savor it.

Jim’s voice is teasingly skeptical, laced with mirth.

“Sun gods?”

Blair closes his eyes and responds with a lackadaisical body shrug.

“Yeah, man, you know. Ra, Hathor, Awondo, Amaterasu, Surya deva, Huitzilopochtli.”

Jim interrupts with a snort.

“You’re making some of those up.”

Blair’s reply is indignant, and he nudges Jim with his hind end.

“Am not. But okay, so sun goddesses too, but the point is, man, they’ve heard my pleas, they’ve accepted my sacrifices, they’ve blessed the humble inhabitants of Cascade by banishing the cold and rain to---,”

“Whoah. Sacrifices?” Jim scoffs quizzically.

“---okay, right, sacrifices, yeah, well only one really, and it pretty much involves giving up Wonderburger with the condition that the Sentinel of the Great City goes along with it ---,”

Jim snuffles Blair’s hair, blowing soft raspberries along his neck as he squeezes him tightly.

“I don’t think so, Chief.”

Blair waves his hands dramatically and makes weird gestures toward the sky as he whispers softly out of the corner of his mouth.

“Shhh, Jim, man, you’ll jinx it.”

Then he raises his voice and bellows.

“Ignore him, oh mighty spirits of warmth! Oh givers of heat, and warmth, and heat!”

Jim starts to laugh.

Blair lowers his arms and crosses them lightly over Jim’s. He sways back and forth. His movements are sluggish, seductively insistent, and Jim is pulled along with his momentum.

“Man, Jim, it’s a gorgeous day. And I mean to soak up enough heat to last me straight through November. Maybe December. This heat wave just cannot last long enough to suit me. I’ve got me some serious summertime blues here, man.”

Jim starts humming softly, and the underside of his chin vibrates the melody along the top of Blair’s shoulder, down through his collarbone and on down to his belly and below.

He just nods agreeably, enjoying the heat wave immensely at the moment.


End file.
